Glee: Baby, You Can Drive My Car
Title: Baby, You Can Drive My Car
Author: percontata
Fandom: Glee
Characters: Puck/Kurt
Rating: Hard R, for sexual stuff.
Word count: 2,038
Warnings: Muscle car kink, hand kink, biting.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. I'm just having fun with them.
Summary: Kurt has a muscle car kink and mechanical skills. Puck has a muscle car and a need for a mechanic's skills.
Notes: Written for this prompt. Doesn't fully cover everything, but I do intend to cover the rest and incorporate parts of the parent prompt in future installments. Also? This is Puck's car.
Kurt had barely entered his dad's garage before Burt called, "Hey, Kurt. Do you know if any of your friends at school own an old muscle car?"
His pulse kicked up a few notches, but he managed to not let it show. "No... not that I'm aware of. Why?"
Burt scratched the back of his head, looking decidedly weirded out. "It was the strangest thing. I think it was one of your football teammates - didn't catch his name, but I recognized him well enough - stopped by a few minutes ago, asked if I had any old self-help manuals on auto repairs. I told him to just bring his car in so I could take a look at it for him, but he muttered something about not being able to afford much, and just thanked me for my time and ran off. I was gonna tell him I could at least give him a free consult about what he'd need to do to fix 'er up, but he was outta here pretty fast."
Kurt frowned. "Who was it?"
"That mohawked kid."
Oh, hell. Kurt really didn't want to ask his next question, but he just had to, because otherwise he would certainly stalk Puckerman just to find out what kind of car he had, and that was simply not an acceptable option. "Did, ah, did he at least tell you what he's working on?"
His dad grinned at that. "Yeah, a '59 Impala. Said his granddad left it to him, but it's been in such bad shape he didn't know where to start. But I bet it'll be an absolute beauty when it's finished." His smiled faded. "Well, if he finishes. It didn't sound like he had much of a clue what he was doing. It's a shame, really, with a car like that..."
At the mention of a '59 Impala, Kurt knew he was doomed.
* * *
Kurt had decided that it wasn't considered "stalking" if he fully intended to make Puck aware of his presence. Just... that part would come later. After he'd seen the car for himself, and decided whether this was worth his time.
He'd only just managed to coax the garage door unlocked when he heard a shout that made him freeze.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Puck grabbed him by the collar of his coveralls and whipped him around to meet his furious gaze.
He supplied a weak grin and the first probable answer that came to mind. "Ah... free consultation?"
"Hummel? The hell?" Now Puck just looked confused, all apparent anger drained from his face. "What are you wearing?"
"Mechanic's coveralls, what does it look like?" he sniped. At Puck's blank look, he sighed. "You stopped by my dad's garage earlier. He said he wanted to offer a free consultation on your project. Since he knows I have, er, a thing for muscle cars, he sent me to take care of it." No need to explain exactly what sort of thing that was, he thought.
But apparently going the vague route on that was not a good idea, as Puck offered what could only be considered a lecherous smirk. "A thing, huh?"
Kurt could feel the heat of a blush prickling its way across his cheeks, but he did his best to ignore it. "Is the Impala in here?"
Puck nodded and sighed, scruffing a hand through his mohawk. "Yeah, but it's pretty much fucked up." With that warning, he lifted the garage door.
And he was right. The body's paint was peeling in several places. The passenger side was dented inwards. And the rear fender was rusted, but not too much so, which was a relief. Despite the exterior problems, Kurt could easily envision the Chevy fully restored and tearing up the unassuming streets of Lima. It took every ounce of self-control to will down his sudden (but not at all unexpected) erection.
"Does it run at all?"
At this, Puck looked frustrated, and not a little embarrassed. "Not... really." At Kurt's questioning look, he continued, "The engine will turn over sometimes, but it's not consistent, and when I do get it to move, it won't shift gears."
"What do you mean, it won't shift gears? Is the gearshift stuck?"
Puck looked at him like he just sprouted antennae from his forehead. "I mean, the RPMs don't do that..." he makes a wagging motion with his hand, "thing that they usually do, like when I shift gears in my truck."
"Please, please tell me you have not been treating a manual transmission like an automatic."
At this, Puck seemed to figure out what he'd being doing wrong, and just looked downright sheepish. It took all of Kurt's patience not to lay into him for abusing a classic car like this in such a heinous fashion.
Kurt massaged his temples. "Okay. You clearly have no idea what you're doing--"
"Hey!" Puck's pouting (albeit gruff pouting) was not attractive. Definitely not, not in the slightest.
"--but it's an absolute crime for this car to never burn asphalt. So, I'm going to help you restore it."
Puck scowled. "I told your dad, I can't fucking afford--"
"Will you shut up?" Kurt cut him off. "I said that I'm going to help you, I'm not doing all the work for you. You need to learn how to maintain your car." Puck still didn't look convinced. "Besides, maybe if you do actually manage to learn something, you'll be able to help out at my dad's garage." Let Puck take from that what he would - either an exchange of services, or an opening for a part-time job. Kurt didn't particularly care at that moment; all he wanted was a chance to work on the Impala, feel its chrome under his fingers, feel the deep rumble of the motor...
"Stop staring at the car like you want to hump it, Hummel."
Kurt practically jumped out of his skin. "I was not!"
"Uh huh." That damned smirk was back. "So, you have anywhere better to be right now, or do you wanna get started on this thing?"
Kurt just smiled. Victory!
* * *
The external adjustments were the easiest place to start. Kurt first decided to show Puck how to fix the dents in the passenger side door. He could have done it himself with his dad's electromagnet, but he figured that Puck would most likely get into some scrapes down the road and should know how to do this himself.
For a fraction of a moment, Kurt regretted that the body was metal and not plastic, so he couldn't very well show off how easy it would have been to fix with simply a hairdryer and an air duster. But if that had been the case, then he wouldn't have been working on this Impala, and that would have been a far greater tragedy. So he pulled out his drill and bit kit, grit disk, metalworking hammer and other assorted tools, and promptly got to work, carefully explaining to Puck all the while what he was doing, and why he was taking each particular step.
"When we're done with this, we'll be able to repaint the body. You see how you've got to sand out where the body filler is? That's why I didn't want to take care of the peeling first, it's better to do all the repainting in one go."
"Makes sense," Puck practically grunted, mostly because he was focusing so intensely on sanding down the body filler just right. The careful, back and forth motions of his hands were distracting, to say the least.
"Do you have a power saw?" Kurt blurted out.
This earned him what Kurt has come to know as one of Puck's what the hell is wrong with you? looks. Though he really didn't think that he deserved it this time. "Uh. No."
"Okay. Well. I'm going to just run to my dad's garage and grab some things to get started on your fender rust problem."
It didn't really take him long at all, what with throwing himself into this project to keep himself from thinking too much about Puck's unreasonably attractive hands. He didn't even notice when Puck had finished with the dent and started watching what he was doing, which at that point was finishing filing the fender patch and making sure it fit neatly into the gap.
"Damn. You're like some kind of machine, Hummel."
Kurt shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage, which wasn't all that much when you had a welding torch in hand. "It just comes from a lot of practice."
"...It's kind of hot, you know."
"That's why you need to wear protective gear."
Puck genuinely laughed at that. "I wasn't talking about the torch."
Kurt had only the briefest of moments to panic before Puck had plucked the welding device from his gloved hands (probably to make sure he wouldn't set his mohawk on fire) and before he could so much as breathe, Puck's lips had crashed against his own.
There was no finesse to it, only a frenzied battle of tongues and teeth and shallow breaths, and nipping at each other's lips, and Puck's calloused hands were all over his jaw and neck. As far as first kisses went, it was pretty much perfect. And then Puck was pulling his gloves off and tangling their fingers together, and it was even better.
Puck tried to roll him onto his back, but Kurt would have none of it and pushed back, and somehow that led to them stumbling to their feet, despite still being attached at the mouth. But that didn't last long, and Kurt soon found himself pressed up against the dip between the Impala's tail wings. The stark contrast of cold metal at his back and Puck's burning presence pressed into his hips made him shudder.
"Knew you had to have some muscle car kink," Puck growled into his ear, before nipping at it sharply.
Kurt hissed at the sensation, while grasping desperately at Puck's arms for some purchase."Not just the car..."
"Oh yeah?"
Kurt laced his hands with Puck's at his hips, pulling one up while keeping his eyes locked on Puck's. When he licked a broad swipe down one finger, Puck's eyes burned with something wild, and he slammed his mouth into Kurt's once again, tangling his fingers into the short hair near his neck and tugging, pulling another gasp from deep within Kurt.
"So fucking hot like this... wanna touch..."
"Yes," was all Kurt could manage to get out, and then Puck's hands were all but tearing him out of his coveralls, working into his jeans underneath. And then he was arching into Puck's touch, urging him on with each shuddering moan, pulling and grasping at the other boy, and biting into his neck when it was too much.
"Fuck, Hummel!"
Kurt could tell from the twitch of Puck's cock pressed against his stomach that he was just as far gone, too. He quickly worked his way into Puck's jeans and pulled him, in long, firm strokes, to his own orgasm.
When they could both manage to breathe again, they just stared at each other for a long moment.
Finally, Kurt broke the silence. "That better not have been a one time thing, or I swear, I will pin you to the hood of this car and bite you again, and not in a good way."
Puck just broke into a grin and swept in for a swift kiss. "Kinky. Think I could get used to this, Hummel."
"You just had your hand on my cock, Noah. I think we can manage on a first name basis."
Noah laughed. "You know, Kurt, when we're finished working on the car...?"
"Mhmm?" Kurt was effectively distracted by Noah's mouth running along his neck.
"Wanna break in the back seat? It looks pretty roomy back there."
If the suggestion hadn't been enough on its own, the wagging eyebrows that Noah paired with it was enough to wrench an amused snort from Kurt. It was an utterly crude idea. But, to be perfectly honest, he kind of loved it.
Author: percontata
Fandom: Glee
Characters: Puck/Kurt
Rating: Hard R, for sexual stuff.
Word count: 2,038
Warnings: Muscle car kink, hand kink, biting.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. I'm just having fun with them.
Summary: Kurt has a muscle car kink and mechanical skills. Puck has a muscle car and a need for a mechanic's skills.
Notes: Written for this prompt. Doesn't fully cover everything, but I do intend to cover the rest and incorporate parts of the parent prompt in future installments. Also? This is Puck's car.
Kurt had barely entered his dad's garage before Burt called, "Hey, Kurt. Do you know if any of your friends at school own an old muscle car?"
His pulse kicked up a few notches, but he managed to not let it show. "No... not that I'm aware of. Why?"
Burt scratched the back of his head, looking decidedly weirded out. "It was the strangest thing. I think it was one of your football teammates - didn't catch his name, but I recognized him well enough - stopped by a few minutes ago, asked if I had any old self-help manuals on auto repairs. I told him to just bring his car in so I could take a look at it for him, but he muttered something about not being able to afford much, and just thanked me for my time and ran off. I was gonna tell him I could at least give him a free consult about what he'd need to do to fix 'er up, but he was outta here pretty fast."
Kurt frowned. "Who was it?"
"That mohawked kid."
Oh, hell. Kurt really didn't want to ask his next question, but he just had to, because otherwise he would certainly stalk Puckerman just to find out what kind of car he had, and that was simply not an acceptable option. "Did, ah, did he at least tell you what he's working on?"
His dad grinned at that. "Yeah, a '59 Impala. Said his granddad left it to him, but it's been in such bad shape he didn't know where to start. But I bet it'll be an absolute beauty when it's finished." His smiled faded. "Well, if he finishes. It didn't sound like he had much of a clue what he was doing. It's a shame, really, with a car like that..."
At the mention of a '59 Impala, Kurt knew he was doomed.
* * *
Kurt had decided that it wasn't considered "stalking" if he fully intended to make Puck aware of his presence. Just... that part would come later. After he'd seen the car for himself, and decided whether this was worth his time.
He'd only just managed to coax the garage door unlocked when he heard a shout that made him freeze.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Puck grabbed him by the collar of his coveralls and whipped him around to meet his furious gaze.
He supplied a weak grin and the first probable answer that came to mind. "Ah... free consultation?"
"Hummel? The hell?" Now Puck just looked confused, all apparent anger drained from his face. "What are you wearing?"
"Mechanic's coveralls, what does it look like?" he sniped. At Puck's blank look, he sighed. "You stopped by my dad's garage earlier. He said he wanted to offer a free consultation on your project. Since he knows I have, er, a thing for muscle cars, he sent me to take care of it." No need to explain exactly what sort of thing that was, he thought.
But apparently going the vague route on that was not a good idea, as Puck offered what could only be considered a lecherous smirk. "A thing, huh?"
Kurt could feel the heat of a blush prickling its way across his cheeks, but he did his best to ignore it. "Is the Impala in here?"
Puck nodded and sighed, scruffing a hand through his mohawk. "Yeah, but it's pretty much fucked up." With that warning, he lifted the garage door.
And he was right. The body's paint was peeling in several places. The passenger side was dented inwards. And the rear fender was rusted, but not too much so, which was a relief. Despite the exterior problems, Kurt could easily envision the Chevy fully restored and tearing up the unassuming streets of Lima. It took every ounce of self-control to will down his sudden (but not at all unexpected) erection.
"Does it run at all?"
At this, Puck looked frustrated, and not a little embarrassed. "Not... really." At Kurt's questioning look, he continued, "The engine will turn over sometimes, but it's not consistent, and when I do get it to move, it won't shift gears."
"What do you mean, it won't shift gears? Is the gearshift stuck?"
Puck looked at him like he just sprouted antennae from his forehead. "I mean, the RPMs don't do that..." he makes a wagging motion with his hand, "thing that they usually do, like when I shift gears in my truck."
"Please, please tell me you have not been treating a manual transmission like an automatic."
At this, Puck seemed to figure out what he'd being doing wrong, and just looked downright sheepish. It took all of Kurt's patience not to lay into him for abusing a classic car like this in such a heinous fashion.
Kurt massaged his temples. "Okay. You clearly have no idea what you're doing--"
"Hey!" Puck's pouting (albeit gruff pouting) was not attractive. Definitely not, not in the slightest.
"--but it's an absolute crime for this car to never burn asphalt. So, I'm going to help you restore it."
Puck scowled. "I told your dad, I can't fucking afford--"
"Will you shut up?" Kurt cut him off. "I said that I'm going to help you, I'm not doing all the work for you. You need to learn how to maintain your car." Puck still didn't look convinced. "Besides, maybe if you do actually manage to learn something, you'll be able to help out at my dad's garage." Let Puck take from that what he would - either an exchange of services, or an opening for a part-time job. Kurt didn't particularly care at that moment; all he wanted was a chance to work on the Impala, feel its chrome under his fingers, feel the deep rumble of the motor...
"Stop staring at the car like you want to hump it, Hummel."
Kurt practically jumped out of his skin. "I was not!"
"Uh huh." That damned smirk was back. "So, you have anywhere better to be right now, or do you wanna get started on this thing?"
Kurt just smiled. Victory!
* * *
The external adjustments were the easiest place to start. Kurt first decided to show Puck how to fix the dents in the passenger side door. He could have done it himself with his dad's electromagnet, but he figured that Puck would most likely get into some scrapes down the road and should know how to do this himself.
For a fraction of a moment, Kurt regretted that the body was metal and not plastic, so he couldn't very well show off how easy it would have been to fix with simply a hairdryer and an air duster. But if that had been the case, then he wouldn't have been working on this Impala, and that would have been a far greater tragedy. So he pulled out his drill and bit kit, grit disk, metalworking hammer and other assorted tools, and promptly got to work, carefully explaining to Puck all the while what he was doing, and why he was taking each particular step.
"When we're done with this, we'll be able to repaint the body. You see how you've got to sand out where the body filler is? That's why I didn't want to take care of the peeling first, it's better to do all the repainting in one go."
"Makes sense," Puck practically grunted, mostly because he was focusing so intensely on sanding down the body filler just right. The careful, back and forth motions of his hands were distracting, to say the least.
"Do you have a power saw?" Kurt blurted out.
This earned him what Kurt has come to know as one of Puck's what the hell is wrong with you? looks. Though he really didn't think that he deserved it this time. "Uh. No."
"Okay. Well. I'm going to just run to my dad's garage and grab some things to get started on your fender rust problem."
It didn't really take him long at all, what with throwing himself into this project to keep himself from thinking too much about Puck's unreasonably attractive hands. He didn't even notice when Puck had finished with the dent and started watching what he was doing, which at that point was finishing filing the fender patch and making sure it fit neatly into the gap.
"Damn. You're like some kind of machine, Hummel."
Kurt shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage, which wasn't all that much when you had a welding torch in hand. "It just comes from a lot of practice."
"...It's kind of hot, you know."
"That's why you need to wear protective gear."
Puck genuinely laughed at that. "I wasn't talking about the torch."
Kurt had only the briefest of moments to panic before Puck had plucked the welding device from his gloved hands (probably to make sure he wouldn't set his mohawk on fire) and before he could so much as breathe, Puck's lips had crashed against his own.
There was no finesse to it, only a frenzied battle of tongues and teeth and shallow breaths, and nipping at each other's lips, and Puck's calloused hands were all over his jaw and neck. As far as first kisses went, it was pretty much perfect. And then Puck was pulling his gloves off and tangling their fingers together, and it was even better.
Puck tried to roll him onto his back, but Kurt would have none of it and pushed back, and somehow that led to them stumbling to their feet, despite still being attached at the mouth. But that didn't last long, and Kurt soon found himself pressed up against the dip between the Impala's tail wings. The stark contrast of cold metal at his back and Puck's burning presence pressed into his hips made him shudder.
"Knew you had to have some muscle car kink," Puck growled into his ear, before nipping at it sharply.
Kurt hissed at the sensation, while grasping desperately at Puck's arms for some purchase."Not just the car..."
"Oh yeah?"
Kurt laced his hands with Puck's at his hips, pulling one up while keeping his eyes locked on Puck's. When he licked a broad swipe down one finger, Puck's eyes burned with something wild, and he slammed his mouth into Kurt's once again, tangling his fingers into the short hair near his neck and tugging, pulling another gasp from deep within Kurt.
"So fucking hot like this... wanna touch..."
"Yes," was all Kurt could manage to get out, and then Puck's hands were all but tearing him out of his coveralls, working into his jeans underneath. And then he was arching into Puck's touch, urging him on with each shuddering moan, pulling and grasping at the other boy, and biting into his neck when it was too much.
"Fuck, Hummel!"
Kurt could tell from the twitch of Puck's cock pressed against his stomach that he was just as far gone, too. He quickly worked his way into Puck's jeans and pulled him, in long, firm strokes, to his own orgasm.
When they could both manage to breathe again, they just stared at each other for a long moment.
Finally, Kurt broke the silence. "That better not have been a one time thing, or I swear, I will pin you to the hood of this car and bite you again, and not in a good way."
Puck just broke into a grin and swept in for a swift kiss. "Kinky. Think I could get used to this, Hummel."
"You just had your hand on my cock, Noah. I think we can manage on a first name basis."
Noah laughed. "You know, Kurt, when we're finished working on the car...?"
"Mhmm?" Kurt was effectively distracted by Noah's mouth running along his neck.
"Wanna break in the back seat? It looks pretty roomy back there."
If the suggestion hadn't been enough on its own, the wagging eyebrows that Noah paired with it was enough to wrench an amused snort from Kurt. It was an utterly crude idea. But, to be perfectly honest, he kind of loved it.